


Why do you run?

by Myr, ShippingOrange



Series: Between the Cases [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Confused John, Dramalock, Experiment, Feels, First Kiss, John finally sees the light, M/M, Scared Sherlock, Sherlock wants his John, aaaah those feels, mindpalace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-03
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 06:29:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1067175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myr/pseuds/Myr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingOrange/pseuds/ShippingOrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What is this Sherlock? What is this about? Is this just another of your stupid experiments? Do you want to see how far you can go before you really drive me nuts?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why are we running from...

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place after the events at Nevermind John.
> 
> ShippingOrange: Sherlock  
> Myr: John
> 
> We worked longer on this chapter, so that's why it took us so long to update, also... This part of the series is going to have multiple chapters.
> 
> Have fun reading :3.

Sherlock looked up from his Petra dish with mold. He was still thinking about his conversation with John.  
The sheets had been a lie, just a good excuse to get John home, but now John was on a drink with Lestrade.  
Why did he want John at home? Since when did he want to be around John?  
He didn't need this! What was wrong with him?! Since when did he become so sentimental about humans? About John...

Absently he took his phone from the table and re-read Johns message

\- You're invited too but I guess I don't have to ask since you're so busy - JW

He was invited too, but that meant he had to go to the pub... Share John with other people, talk with Anderson.Off course that waste of space would be there. He didn't want to share John with Anderson, John was his!

What was he saying? Those stupid feelings, they made him weak. Annoyed he put his phone away and continued with his experiment. He wouldn't give in to human sentiment.

Should he go to the pub? He didn't want to think about it, but he wanted John at home. Since he came back from the dead their friendship had been hard. With a sigh he looked at his experiment and put his coat on. He needed to think, just a quick walk to order his thoughts in his mind palace and everything would be fine. So he could delete this tedious thoughts.  
  


___________________________________________

Shelock was ordering his thoughts, when he looked up, he saw the pub where John should be. Deep in thought his feet had brought him here. He couldn't let it go... should he go to the stupid drink or not. Why was he even thinking about this? Off course he shouldn't go, the people from the Yard would give him the look. They hated him, but tolerated him because they were to stupid to solve a crime. With a slow pace he walked to the pub's window and looked inside.

The pub had a wooden interior, with comfortable pillows on the chairs. At the bar he could see Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson, Dimmock and John. Small minded humans, they looked like they had fun. Getting drunk, getting away from their thoughts, he knew how it felt, but still...he only felt disgust for them. Not for John off course, but he felt disgust for the rest of them, especially Anderson.

He felt a pang in his chest when Anderson laid a hand on John's shoulder. John was laughing with something that Anderson said. John looked up, he turned around before John could see him and ran away.

 

___________________________________________

 

Meanwhile John had been sitting in the pub for quite a good time. Hanging out with "normal people" had really helped him to take of his mind from the problem that was Sherlock Holmes. He really liked hanging out with his best friend, it wasn't that, but Sherlock didn't do "hanging out". Lately though, he had tried to get John back to the flat as much as possible for 1001 reasons, but in the end he had had no need for him at all. And the worst part was that the bloody man wouldn't give him any sort of explanation, not even admitting he'd do it on purpose.

So yes, It had been a fun evening. Lestrade turned out to be an emotional drunk and Anderson was really horrible at telling jokes, but after a few pints, John didn't mind anymore himself and just laughed as hard as everyone else. That was, until he saw a flash of grey, blue and black in the corner of his eye. Turning around he could still see his flatmate dissappearing into the night behind the window. John swore and grabbed his coat, shouting a goodbye over his shoulder while he bursted out of the door. Sherlock was really a fast runner, and he'd had a few pints, but John was still an army man. He hadn't even had the time to think about why he was chasing his flatmate all the way trough London. "Sherlock! Sherlock! Wait!" He shouted, gasping for air.

 

___________________________________________

Sherlock ran as fast as he could when he heard John shouting his name. He slowed down to look over his shoulder. John was running behind him, in an attempt to lose John he ran into a small alley, but he was getting closer.

-

John rounded the corner right behind Sherlock. By gripping his sleeve and sticking a leg between Sherlock's he pulled the detective with him towards the ground.  
With an oomph they landed in a tangled heap. "The fuck, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked panicked in John's eyes. "Get off me!" he shouted in a muffled voice, but John pushed him harder on the ground.

"Sherlo-Sherlock what-Why are you running? Sherlock, Talk to me! What the hell is wrong with you!" John said gripping Sherlock's arms and shaking him. "You've been acting weird long enough. You've been calling me home for no reason, you're snearkier as usual to everyone around you. Now what. the. hell. is. Happening!"

John's face looked like it contained all emotions at once. With a plain expression he turned his head away.   


John's rage exploded inside of him. He couldn't even look John in the eye! Bitterness welled up in his throat. "What is this Sherlock? What is this about? Is this just another of your stupid experiments? Do you want to see how far you can go before you really drive me nuts?"  
This was it right? This was why everyone warned him about Sherlock.  
Because in the end..." AM I ONLY JUST ANOTHER EXPERIMENT TO YOU?" He shouted, now totally enraged. Then he waited for his answer. And waited. And waited. And when it didn't came he scrambled of him and stood.  
Giving Sherlock one more chance, he kept looking at him. But even then no reaction came, so he turned around and left without looking back. His rage had left him and his shoulders had dropped, and the walk to Bakerstreet had never felt that long.

___________________________________________

Sherlock looked at the brick wall in front of him. A crazy laugh escaped his throat, sentiment. Why? Why did he had to go to that pub? He made himself vulnerable, it was a mistake. In his thoughts he saw John's face. The pain, confusion and anger. He had to delete this... EVERYTHING! But how hard he tried... His feelings for John didn't leave his mind palace.

___________________________________________

A good while later John entered the cold apartment. He switched on the lights and dropped down in his chair. For a while he did nothing but staring at the chair opposite from his. He was such a fool... 

Sighing he stood up and decided that at the moment he really needed some hot tea. Walking into the kitchen he realized Sherlock had filled the whole table with his experiments again and that he had some serious cleaning to do. Bloody experiments, he thought bitterly while grabbing some petra dishes with mold. Fuck, the mold on his sheets! Running up the stairs he swore to himself. Sherlock probably hadn't removed them from his wardrobe, why would he, when it seemed that he cared more for them as for John? He knew that was horrible to think, because Sherlock had always said he was married to his work, and he was a sociopath, but he had hoped he had ment just a litte more to the man who he called his best friend. 

He opend the closet with caution, hoping it hadn't spread on his clothes. Looking down his eyes scanned the closet for the sheets. Had Sherlock removed them after all? He went to the cupboard and looked at his unused sheets. All of them were still there. So were the sheets on his bed. Sherlock had clearly said he had used John's sheets....now what was going on here. Sitting down on his bed he frowned. Had Sherlock lied to him? But why? For quite some time now Sherlock had been acting weird. It wasn't a case, they finished the last one a few days ago. It wasn't boredom, because Sherlock had kept acting weird trough the case too. It wasn't an experiment either, so it seemed. 

Then it had to be about John. What had he done? He hadn't been paying less attention to Sherlock, on the contrary, ever since he and Mary divorced they had done more together than ever. It was like...Sherlock wanted him to come home for something and then systematically changed his mind the moment John got home. He couldn't really make anything from this situation, so he decided to wait for Sherlock and give him another chance to explain himself. They both weren't going to run from this confrontation anymore. 

Going downstairs he sat down in his chair again, but while he waited and waited, he slowly got worried about his friend. why wasn't he coming back? He decided this wasn't normal and put on his coat. Going down the stairs he decided to start looking where he had left him and stopped a cabbie, nervousness curling in his belly. 

Getting out some minutes later he stood in front of the alley, holding his breath. To both his relief and worry, there was still a familiar shape sitting there, curled up in the same place he had left him.

___________________________________________

Sherlock didn't look up when he heard footsteps approaching. Maybe it was a robber, maybe it would be fun to get beaten up. It would be an interesting experiment to see Jon's reaction when he came home. It could be a good trick to let John stay with him, care for him. No... he had to delete John! He closed his eyes like he was in pain, and maybe he was. It hurt him... How could people live like this? If this was being human, he didn't want to be one of them.  
The owner of the footsteps stopped in front of him, he had black leather shoes, they had been used a lot. He knew who the owner was, a wave of hope spread through his body. He looked up, the owner of the shoes was John.

Sherlock looked up at John and he looked truely miserable. "Sherlock." John whispered, crouching in front of him and putting a hand on his arm. "what's wrong?" He hoped with all his hearth that his friend would answer him somehow.  
"Nothing John, just go home. I have to delete this." Sherlock replied. "I just can't John, it hurts." Sherlock caught his breath and hoped that John would leave and stay at the same time. But John sat beside him and sighed. "I know that this is about me, just tell me what's wrong and I'll try to he-" And that's when it hit him. It was about him and it hurted...It wasn't that Sherlock didn't care about him, in fact, he thought he cared too much! Sher-Sherlock...Sherlock was...he was in love with him! He turned his head to look at the man beside him and knew it was true.

Sherlock closed his eyes, he didn't want to see the world around him, it was to much data. But the truth was... He didn't want to meet John's eyes. He had to admit it... John was smart, and he would see how he felt about him. He would hate Sherlock, and that would hurt him more than to lose his friendship. 

John in the meantime was having a hard time processing this. Sherlock loved him. And with that arised some other difficult questions. What did John feel himself?


	2. ...each other

Sherlock...loved him.  
John had never considered this situation, because from day one Sherlock had been so distant from emotions, from relations.  
It had shocked him when Sherlock had called him his only friend, and then after the fall... when he had said that the marksmen were after the three people he cared for.  
Off course he had felt...a lot of things, and now he finally allowed himself to see them in a different light. All the girlfriends that had left him because of this man, even his wife, had they been right? Had he valued this man over them? To be honest... yes, and with Sherlock in his life, he had never had much time to mourn any of them. He admired Sherlock to no end, loved being around him,... yes, he found him physically attractive, if he was honest with himself, and he often felt the adrenaline in his veins when being around hi- 

Now that he finally let himself think about this it was all crystal-clear. From the bloody beginning, the man had had him in his grasp like no one ever before, and he hadn't allowed himself to see it.  
"Goddammit Sherlock!" he said, dropping his doubts. If this was the man he lived for, he could at least do it properly. So he swallowed, leaned in and put his hand on Sherlock's face, turning it towards him. His eyes shot open, but John left him no time to react. Softly he pushed his lips against Sherlock's.  


___________________________________________

Sherlock wandered through his mind palace. He knew where John's room was, he just needed to open it... to delete it. If he didn't their friendship would be lost. No, he had to delete John, he couldn't delete his love for John, so he had to delete him. If John was gone, there could be no feeling, no feelings are no more problems around sentiment and other human needs. He opened John's room and looked at all the information he collected... to delete John... a tear made his way down his face. He had to do it now, before it was too bloody late. _"We've only just met and we're going to go look at a flat?"_ He looked at the memory, the memory were it started. This was the memory that he had to delete, the day he met John. He prepared himself to delete the memory out of his mind palace. 

"Goddammit Sherlock!" 

John's curse resonated through the walls, and the image went back inside the room, the room pushed him outside and the doors slammed shut. His mind still didn't want to delete John. He felt a hand turning his face to the side, he opened his eyes in shock. He had no time to react, John pulled him closer, and before he could progress it, he felt soft lips on his own. John,... John, the person he loved and tried to forget, was kissing him. He was startled, fear crept up on his spine. John wanted to kiss him, why? Did he want to test him? His brain stopped working, did John love him? Slowly he closed his eyes again and lent into the kiss. It felt strange, he could taste traces of tea on John's lips. The earl grey he loved to drink. John tried to invade his mouth, and slowly he opened his lips. 

They were kissing, and it felt marvelous.

___________________________________________

Sherlock's initial reaction was to go rigid, and for a moment John feared he had misinterpreted the situation. If he had, he was not sure what would happen. But after just a moment Sherlock started to respond and John relaxed. How could they have been so stupid, why didn't they do this earlier... suddenly eager an more self assured he pushed his lips harder against Sherlock's, testing how far he could go. When Sherlock opened his lips for him, a warm feeling spread all the way trough his body. He knew he had done the right thing. Kissing Sherlock was the most intense thing he had ever done, because it felt so real and surreal at the same time. He steadied himself and reached up to wipe the tear he'd spotted earlier from Sherlock's cheek, not breaking the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this part of the series.  
> There will be more soon.
> 
> Myr is sending you all puppy-eyes for comments, ShippingOrange demands them the Sherlock way. :)


End file.
